


Bet You Didn't Know (That I Was Dangerous)

by Saucery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amorality, Badwrong, Bondage, Creeper Peter Hale, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dark, Depraved, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Evil, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Filthy, Incest, Mating Cycles/In Heat, POV Peter Hale, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent/Child Incest, Peter's A+ Parenting, Porn, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sassy, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Snark, Strong Female Characters, Supernatural Elements, Threats, Training, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Voyeurism, Werecoyotes, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Peter took over Malia's training, instead of Stiles? <strike>LOL PETER ACTUALLY TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING LOLOLOLOL</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet You Didn't Know (That I Was Dangerous)

**Author's Note:**

> For [curbitkirby](http://curbitkirby.tumblr.com/), who probably should've known better than to ask for this. Based on the assumption that a werecoyote can be a member of a mostly-werewolf pack. The title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWPcid4l74U). Enjoy!

* * *

 

Malia shudders and sobs and claws at the floor, but she's also growling, her glowing eyes as feral as always, her fangs long and deadly and sharp. Not submissive in the least.

"That's my girl," Peter says, approvingly, tilting her head up and snatching his hand back when she snaps at it. "Tsk, tsk. That's hardly the way to show filial piety, is it?"

"And sucking your dick is?" Malia snarls, deep and resonant.

"It was just a suggestion. This is your first heat. Most females prefer to be filled at times like these."

"Maybe I oughta fill  _you_. With my fist."

"Unconventional," Peter muses, "but intriguing. Carry on."

Malia rattles her chains. Lunges. Falls. Lunges again. Tear-tracks smudge the mascara that Lydia has recently taught Malia how to put on, but they're tears of frustration, of rage. Not surrender.

Perfect. "You do realize you're only making this worse for yourself."

"And you're being ever so helpful," Malia pants. " _Daddy_."

Peter allows himself a delighted shiver at the word. "Ask for my cock, like a good child, and I can relieve you of this uncomfortable condition."

"Does your cock still have to be attached to you? Or can I tear it off and use it however I like?"

"Your imagination is frankly alarming, my dear. I wonder who you inherited it from."

"You know exactly who I inherited it from."

"Mmm, yes," says Peter, trying not to sound self-congratulatory. He feels a lot like God, now that he's created something in his image. "Submit, and I'll let you out of those chains so you can spread yourself open for me and beg me to fuck you as hard as I can."

"I'll never submit." Malia bares her teeth. "Go screw yourself."

"Again, an interesting idea, but not one that will do much for  _you_ , I'm afraid. Unless, perhaps, you'd like to watch?" Voyeurism is natural to the Hales, after all.

Malia coils into a crouch, her beautiful, sleek muscles tensing beneath her torn shirt, her mini-skirt riding obscenely up her soft thighs, which are slick and gleaming on the insides, because Malia truly is that wet. That desperate. Peter can smell her, rich and heavy as petrichor—his daughter's scent, so like his own, and yet... so  _not_. 

He isn't surprised when she leaps, with her entire strength, almost breaking the chains, howling in wrath when she fails.

"I will fucking  _murder_  you," she says, once she's caught her breath.

"I, too, have a predilection for combining murder with fucking. An inherited trait, I see." He walks toward the chair at the far side of the room and sits down on it, casually parting his legs wide enough to show off his really quite respectable erection, even if he does say so himself. He runs an idle thumb along his bulging zipper, patient as he can afford to be, being the responsible adult, here. "Ask for it."

"No."

" _Ask—_ "

"I thought I told you to screw yourself," Malia rasps, hungrily. "Do it." She shoves a hand under her skirt, her wrist moving the fabric back and forth. She's thrusting her fingers into herself. Viciously.

 _Ah_ , Peter thinks, so momentarily overwhelmed that he nearly misses what she says next.

"Strip your big cock for me, Father mine, and maybe if you do it right, I might  _condescend_  to pin you to the floor and ride you how  _I_  want to." She grins, mad and wild and lovely and lightning-bright. "Even if it hurts. Even if you cry for it to stop. Even if my claws are buried in your chest, wrapped around your filthy, beating, lying little heart."

And Peter smiles, because—

Yes.

Oh, yes.

That  _is_  a flicker of red in Malia's eyes.

He had hoped to drive Malia to this, across a few heats, but this is happening sooner than he'd predicted. His flawless offspring is more than rising to the occasion. Much like his prick. So to speak.

He's so close to cultivating another Alpha female for his pack, an Alpha like Talia was, terrifying and exquisite in equal measure. He still remembers his sister's voice, sometimes, silk over steel, when he's touching himself.

Now, he has his daughter's voice to touch himself to. For  _her_  pleasure. Because she commanded him.

"You have to issue orders with authority if you expect them to be followed," Peter says, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans. "And you're learning, baby girl. You're learning just fine."

 

* * *

**fin.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remind me to write a Peter/Stiles/Malia sequel in which Peter uses Stiles's relationship with Malia to get a taste of Stiles for himself. Which, of course, leads to Stiles getting double-teamed by both father and daughter...


End file.
